XTRA: Resolve
by PrognisAldiev
Summary: What will eventually amass to be a collection of side-stories, bonus information, and content not seen in the story chapters of RWBY: Resolve. Really just to tide us over until the next volume of RWBY lets the main story move on, but interesting tidbits of information regarding the story can be seen in these chapters. Just a heads up -there is no team named XTRA.
1. Behind-the-Scenes (STNH)

**Another Perspective**

Steven was aware that he had a strange team.

Many of the male students had instantly taken to envy much like they would to Obaz when Yang's outburst occurred later that day, and then taken just as quickly to liking him once he revealed a socially normal and completely average personality that could fit within any given clique. The envy still remained, however, as Steven was one of lucky few who not only was a part of, but led a team comprised of himself and three stunningly attractive girls.

The girls themselves, however, were odd in some ways. Helena was apparently of such high class that she was the equivalent of and regarded as some tiny country's royalty, and as such was unused to living without servants. Or a bed bigger than their dorm. Or seven pools. She was under the impression they were living as paupers, and it was some kind of long-term assignment to live through the hardships of not having the faucet spew money upon turning it on.

Nicole and Teresa were inseparable, but beyond that their tendencies were a little strange. Both liked to take one another's notes by writing their own and swapping after classes, make jokes where they expected the other to throw down the punch line, and various other small activities that were somehow being shared despite being just as easily done by one of them. Teresa seemed a little edgy at times, Nicole a flat neutral and untalkative, choosing to let her sister do that for both of them nine times out of ten. None of the small quirks and irritabilities, however, prepared him for their first night sleeping in the same room.

His bed was at the far end of the dorm, Helena not too keen on sharing the 'small' bedchamber and generally personal space with a boy. She wore a silken yellow night gown of sorts to sleep, and judging by her inability to wake when the others were doing their own things around the room, slept quite deeply. Steven just wore some pyjama pants and a sleeveless shirt, but first problems came about when the twins decided to turn in for the night... each stripping themselves bare. _They slept in the nude._

Steven tried to force himself to stay on his right side, looking at the wall, but snuck a glance over repeatedly. The two girls were facing away from him, but even like this the situation was too much, and finally they both got under their covers. While trying to purge the image from his mind –for the time being, of course –he thought perhaps his classmates had a right to be jealous after all... That night was spent for a while trying to figure out how he could live in the same place as these three. The twins may for some reason or another be shameless, but Helena would most likely argue and lecture him into an early grave for existing in the same space. Knowing what little of her he did, it was practically guaranteed that she would be knocking him out and tying him up with a blindfold every night, and twice more likely when she discovered the other girls' sleeping habits. He did, however, manage to drift off to slumber without too much difficulty; the day had been long and exhausting.

/

When Steven woke the next morning, he concluded that yes, his classmates had rights to be jealous of him upon passing the foot of Helena's bed. He stepped back in front of her bed for a moment, pinched himself, and found he wasn't dreaming; the twins had at some time last night migrated from their own beds into hers, and the three of them were comfortably spooning. The sheets and blankets were in disarray, the twins' unmentionables hidden only because they were pressed against the silken blonde between them.

Steven made breakfast. Cooking an omelette and some hashbrowns kept his attention to his own work and away from the least sexual situation he'd ever seen, and in doing so would make him appear innocent to any temptations they might accuse him of having. The very fact that the dorms were co-ed seemed unusual but it was like the three members of his own team were trying to make it as tense as possible. Once he plated the meal, he sat at the coffee table he had quietly moved closer to his own bed, catching Helena eying him.

She was now wide awake, probably having woken groggily at first but quickly realizing she was no longer alone in her bed. She attempted to move from between the twins, and they both instinctively held her tighter in their peaceful rest. Steven laughed softly and ate a piece of omelette, but once Helena started mouthing angry requests for assistance he sighed, returning to the kitchen and cooking more food. It was all the same as what he just had, but he felt like seconds and made sure the scent would drift this time. Within minutes he had the three girls out of bed, Helena eating with a dazed look while Nicole and Teresa both had gotten into one of Steven's oversized T-shirts now, looking somewhat guilty.

"We, um... We always slept in the same bed with our mom. We probably sort of sleepwalked over to you, being the only other girl nearby." Teresa quietly explained whilst wringing her hands, eyes downcast.

Helena looked up from the food she was eating. "W-what? I... hang on."

Quickly mowing through the rest of her food, Helena set her eyes on the twins but still seemed out of sorts. "Look, you didn't really disturb me, so just... wear the shirts and try not to –okay really, Steven, where did you learn how to cook?!"

Steven's eyebrows rose as his plate was stolen out from under his utensils and Helena started devouring the contents. He carried on in her place; "I think what she is trying to say is that you ought to break the habit. And remember that I have to sleep in here, too –so you can keep those until you get something more appropriate."

Fortunately, according to Helena Steven's homely cooking was godlike to her taste buds and gave him a bargaining chip if ever she was upset with him over anything. Nicole and Teresa also enjoyed the service and agreed the taste was good, so his role in their day-to-day lives had been established quite easily. The morning's transgressions soon passed, and they began to converse over the table;

"So I forgot to ask you, but what the hell happened during the initiation? You went from full-blown coward to big bad bird cleaver soon as Obaz had a word with you. I take it that orange glow was your semblance or something?" Teresa certainly had her way with words. Steven had hoped that it would stay forgotten.

"My semblance doubles the velocity at which my weapon swings when I move it, based on the number of times it flashes. Once is twice strength, second is four times... The highest number of charges I've ever reached is five. It only lasts for one swing, so I have to make it count; coming down with an overhead swing adds gravity into the equation at the last second, so that's the best way for me to go with it."

Thirty-two times power. The three of them fell quiet while they did the math; that was just ridiculous. "As for Obaz' part in the initiation... He just talked me out of the fear. He gave me something to be more afraid of, actually; any of you dying off because I did nothing."

He shrugged. The three of them thought there was more to it by appearances. "You go talk to him, see how convincing he can be. The guy's got a gift... Hell, he made you shut up –I want him to impart a little of that secret." Helena's glare shut him up instead; in comparison, his was a mouth made for socks.

Helena, being the one who ate the most of Steven's breakfast, took care of the expended dishes but left some for after classes as they were running short on time. When Nicole brought this to attention, she and her sister threw off Steven's shirts in plain sight as they got dressed next to their respective beds. Steven made friends with a certain knot in the wood grain of the coffee table he named Distraction, and Helena used the bathroom area like he had expected her to.

The four now in uniform, they moved on to their first class learning the anatomy and behaviours of different species of Grimm. Later on, learning what you normally did in a school like mathematics and language proved their team had good heads on their shoulders; Nicole and Teresa were both pretty knowledgeable, Helena struggling a bit with languages as her native tongue was from that tiny country Steven still could not name off the top of his head. He gave her a hand in that department, and she in turn helped him in combined strategies; mainly because combined strategies were one of the most important classes for a team leader. Team STNH's homework would fly between the four of them for the first little while of their attendance of Beacon, and Glynda would consider them one of the most naturally well-cooperating teams in the school year, both physically and academically. Compared to the chemistry in team RSOL, they were perfect matches.

The first and second day the teams were in the same classes together, but now that the novelty of their late arrival had blown over the teachers assessed their strengths and weaknesses from those two days and their records from the initiation to start moving them around individually. The undesired appointing of Obaz' as the history class' assistant teacher took a free spot in the vast rumor mill, and was easily buried by all the amazing bits of information running around about Ruby Rose and her teammates.

That was until a few days later when their eldest member met with this strangely named character, beat him up, and proceeded to announce their decision upon a date. Steven laughed out loud when he heard about it, mostly because he was one of few people who had ever gotten a word out of the guy. His classmates were so lacking in info on Obaz that Steven's minimal understanding was essentially expertise. He told them the rumor was probably oversimplified; he wasn't going to fully deny the idea that Obaz had scored something everyone else wanted, but if he had it was for either ulterior motives or, again, undesired.

/

Their time spent at Beacon ran smoothly, but when they took care of menial things like shopping trips to Vale Steven was less of a leader and more like their mother. They of course liked his cooking, but Helena was drawn to every high-value object like a fly to a lamp, trying to make him purchase albino caviar or specially brazed boneless duck from halfway around the world, each time succeeding in being told to put it back from wherever she got it from. Nicole and Teresa collected things they could eat on the go and bland vitamin and protein supplements, followed closely by hoarding together armfuls of sugary snacks and desserts. They received the same treatment as the princess.

Setting themselves down on a bus bench awaiting the public transport, Steven had a meager selection of things he could make for the next week or two but Teresa curiously rifled through half a dozen bags someone left there. He had been about to tell her much like a parent that these things weren't hers and that she shouldn't be touching them when another four Hunters came jogging down the street to stop where they were, the blonde boy at the front snatching away the bag that Teresa was currently investigating.

"I take it you forgot these, Jaune?"

"Oh thank god... It's all still here Pyrrha." Jaune took a second to reassure his redheaded companion that their purchases were all accounted for. Only now did he realize there were others in front of him.

"Steven? What are you doing here?"

"Same as you are by the look of things. With less weight." They shared a small laugh; Jaune and Steven were mild acquaintances from a ways back, having met at the same school at a younger age. There were birthday parties and other childish memories between the two, but they hadn't become actual friends until they met at Beacon and caught up; with Cardin prowling for targets as passive as Jaune, he had been having it hard in the friend department besides Ruby Rose and his own teammates. Meeting with Steven had been a big relief and quite welcome, Steven much the same minus the bullying. Funny enough, Steven was to Jaune basically what Regis was to Cardin.

The two of them kept watch over their goods while the six others mingled; Helena and Pyrrha having known one another from somewhere before and Nora shocked to see a pair as undividable as she and her best friend Ren.

"You're not legit, are you Jaune?" Steven asked levelly.

"What? Of course I am!" Jaune acted defensive, even hurt by the accusation. Steven remained stone-faced, brow lifted. He wasn't going to be persuaded by anything short of the truth.

"It's harder to talk out of when someone knows you from before... This is what I need to do, Steve. There's no going back." Jaune replied with low volume. The silence that followed made him think for a moment that Steven really was mad about the fact and would rat on him about it, but he let out a sigh and chuckled.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you pulled off a forged entry, but if you put the effort in to succeed here then I think you belong as much as anyone else. If you quit, that's when we'll have to talk." Jaune nodded to the two-sentence pact like he was signing in blood.

Eager to change the subject and relieve the tension, Jaune moved on. "How do Helena and Pyrrha know each other?"

"I guess they met up in that Mistral tourney Pyrrha kept winning in. That record she holds? Helena was a close competitor for the title. Last three years or so."

"... and they're _friends?_ " Jaune asked. They were both talking rather seriously about someone Pyrrha had run into that day, but the boys couldn't hear exactly who from where they sat. Despite the undertone of the conversation, they didn't appear standoffish.

Steven shrugged, prolonging the gesture. "It's a healthy respect for one another's skill. Unlike most people, they seem to know what the term 'sportsmanship' actually means."

The bus arrived at the stop, and the eight of them piled in with country bumpkins Jaune and Steven the designated loading crew for groceries. Apparently Pyrrha hadn't the intention of using the bus and wanted Jaune to carry the heavy cargo back to Beacon mostly on foot, but they gave chase to some kind of wanted criminal that day and she spared him the workout in exchange for nearly being crushed by a fire escape. That sounded like a fair trade.

They switched to a miniature shuttle bringing them back up to Beacon, and once spotting Obaz trying to covertly dodge their motley band at the gates Steven closed in on him to invade his personal space. Minutes of chitchat rolled by and they let the chauvinistic huntsman on his way after Steven had one last word; that one last word had been overheard judging by the look he was getting from Helena when he turned around.

"Quite the stud, aren't you?"

"Have you _seen_ these muscles?" Steven joked back, but his jovial disposition fell away unnaturally fast. "Laera and I have a history that I'm not entirely sure is mine to talk about. I haven't been romantically involved with her or anything, but past that you'll have to get her to spill it."

The seriousness and hint of depression in Steven's voice was a first contact for Helena and the twins, so they knew nothing else to do but back down from the subject. Taking away the jape for an opener, the response had been about as blunt as Obaz would have put it, and he almost felt that if the guy weren't sent on his way moments ago he'd be patting Steven on the back.

/

A few days later, Steven had not met with Obaz or any other member of team RSOL but decided it was best to let Laera have some space and refrain from having the other three caught in between. Around the time the thought had crossed his mind he witnessed Laera storm out of her dorm room into the hallway, see he was populating the hallway ahead of her, and immediately choose to re-enter her dorm. He hadn't been expecting less.

Taking it as a sign, Steven knocked at the door asking if he could come in. "Enter if you wish." The affirmation was from Obaz.

"Don't do that. Warning you." a well-formulated and firm disagreement mumbled half-coherently from Laera, so he simply stood for a moment, torn. Obaz opened the door in front of him, and he could see over the boy's shoulder that the girl was trying to light him on fire with her thoughts. As he felt no rise in temperature, he felt it safe so long as he didn't cross the threshold of the doorframe.

"Laera is not in the best of moods. Would you like to see her at another time?" Steven's brain translated to a less emotional version of 'leave a message after the beep' without the fore mentioned beep.

He attempted to make eye contact with Laera again, hoping to see some breach in her disparate attitude but having no such luck. He sighed in defeat and fished an old personal item out of his pocket; if she wanted to be distant and impersonal, he would have to do the same. It might even be better this way. "Just have her hang onto this for me."

Steven left the halls and went about his own business, knowing Obaz would spend at least a minute or two trying to figure out what the little star was actually meant to be or what it was supposed to be attached to.

"What did you do that made her so angry?"

He nearly jumped out of his shoes when Regis came up behind him and asked the question. If he had been coming toward the dorm just now he would have seen everything, and choosing not to enter right now seemed wise.

"... It's what I didn't do, really. You'd have to ask her herself."

Regis frowned. "I don't really want to know _that_ bad. I just want to get her to stop being... like that." He paused, and then requested a look at Steven's scroll. Regis established a link between their devices.

"I don't want to get too involved personally, either... but if in some instance you need help patching things up with Laera, count me in. As a member of her team and the leader no less, I can arrange meetings and other such things –and she'll be none the wiser 'til she sees you."

"Wow... that's pretty decent of you, Regis." Steven gave him a smile of appreciation. It fell away shortly after the response he got.

"Afterwards, if you can hook a brother up? Helena's pretty hot. I wouldn't mind one of the twins, either."

/

Come time of the Darkmire assignment, the four of them were a well-working team. Helena was a capable spearhead when the time called for someone with sharp eyes and sharp instincts, and occasionally offered alternatives to Steven's orders that she never pressed too hard but were usually accepted. Teresa and Nicole were fantastic at flanking and stealth, as well as keeping an enemy where their other two comrades may need it to be. Steven himself called the shots, and the use of his strength-charging semblance usually dealt the finishing blow; his resemblance to an executioner standing with axe ready to chop heads off at the block earned him that very same nickname, one he was proud of. He had a very violent and berserker-like fighting style that most hadn't expected of him, further guiding the reputation.

They all moved slowly and deliberately in the mire, but Helena was the only one completely devastated by the act of proceeding through the mud and water. Steven was used to dirty work, while the twins voiced neither distaste nor pleasure; Helena's attire was far from made for the likes of this and her lifestyle even less. Once they decided to split up, the pairings for their own team were obvious and prepared immediately, much to Obaz' dismay.

Steven and Helena were the first of the left-wing pairs, Glynda just barely in sight on their right, Nicole and Teresa much the same on their left. He listened for enemies on the approach, but Helena's bellyaching continued on and on about the swamp. He actually started tracking how long she could bitch for without drawing another breath when the first two Basili appeared on their path, drawn by his noisy companion. He cleaved the first in half horizontally, and the second Helena kicked before it got close enough to bite. It spat on her chest, which seemed to cause a momentary lapse in her at the sheer disgust of black grime being spewed onto her like that, and Steven brought in an underhand swing that created a splash as the flat plowed through the monster and sent it flying into the sky.

Helena fired a harpoon through the beast while in midair. She wasn't even looking up at her target, just at Steven; his motion had soaked her from head to already-submerged knees, the thicker dark substance that had been horked on her still clinging. Her hate only escalated when the carcass of that last one came crashing down, spraying her with filth yet more. Steven laughed, getting himself into a splash fight with her and being the boy with a slab for a weapon easily won.

After sending the message to his peers and teacher on his scroll, the two carried on in silence while Helena pouted; the absence of voiced loathing was just as bad as hearing it said. In a few minutes, there was a momentary sound of struggle well away from them on the RSOL side of the swamp, and soon they got the incoming confirmation from Regis; _'One more kill on this end. Obaz shot and missed from five feet away... FML.'_

Even from this distance, Steven could tell it was Laera laughing her head off and shortly after the sound became combative, they received another message from her. _'We got two of them over here. Easy peasy.'_

There was a very long and undisturbed while before the next clash, and another message came in from Regis; _'Three dead Basili.' _It seemed Obaz had thinned Regis' patience since no humor followed this one.

Steven could have sworn he heard the sound of an engine in the distance, but Helena reassured him he was hearing things. A while later they witnessed Teresa dissect one of their quarry and the impalement of another by Nicole, the message a simple _'Two more'_ from the quieter of them both. Laera reported one in a few minutes with glee; he hadn't even heard signs of difficulty with it; _'Another one bites the dust_~_'_

Soon after the audio call from Glynda requested they all move inward in their formation, but by the way she made it sound things would be over by the time they got there. They both followed her orders nonetheless, not in any real rush until they saw the number of Basili awaiting at the nest; there were at least as many as they just wiped out concentrated here, probably a few more out of sight; now that they were all here other than the furthest Obaz and Regis, Glynda held back to watch how her students would deal with the numbers. Being the only team leader present, Steven barked positions to RSOL's two members as well;

"Sophia, Nicole, Laera on me –we'll form the front line. Teresa and Helena will provide covering fire from behind us. Move it!" His stern voice was almost as commanding as their instructor's, and within moments the six of them were making a heap in front of his established front line with not a hint of pain sustained on their end. Sophia caught one with her clawed hand, throwing it to the ground and running it through while Nicole popped a shell into the nearest Basila to her. Steven braced the flat of his sword with his shoulder and knocked the two lunging at him back, slicing through one on an angle that he continued over his head into a vertical swing down on the other.

Teresa wasted a further target with the last of her left hand clip, reloading when a high-pitched noise echoed over to them. Sophia was the first to recognize it; "That was Obaz whistling... Not once has he ever done that outside a bad situation."

Laera slashed through another Basila, watching five more crawl out of the hole they were getting closer to. "Probably just a handful of these guys, like the few out hunting we found at first. They can handle it."

"Should we risk that?" Sophia frowned, pushing a corpse off her lance with one boot. She looked at Steven, and he showed his own concerns, knowing what few other instances he'd made the sound. Even then, they both should have been here by now, or at least much closer than he sounded.

"Laera, Teresa, Helena, you three can get out that way the quickest; Hoof it. Actually, forget Teresa –Nicole can go; we might need some quick shooting if any Basili try to run. The rest of us can strongarm our way through these things, no problem." He flattened one trying to spit at him to the ground in a quick approach and slam of his loading side as if to demonstrate. His forces at the nest now divided in half.

The number of little Grimm nesting here had been well above thirty as it turned out, and Glynda watched her scroll for a moment before leaving the area first. Steven stuck by his own orders, making sure the last of the Basili were slain before following after her but they made surprisingly good time. Steven even assisted Ms. Goodwitch on their way in with projectiles joining hers to finish Nicole's enemy, and soon the teacher was locked in a fight with two monstrous, bipedal, frog-like freaks; if there were a cross between the game Battletoads and the movie Aliens, these would no doubt be the result.

Two were already dead; one from their own intervention but the other by Obaz' improvising with what he had. What he had was an opponent and a tree, and apparently he almost died but with Laera's help managed to kill it with these things. Once Glynda took care of business Obaz requested his gear be found; Teresa got a grip on his weapon and Steven at least discovered the guy's headwear, both offering them back.

These 'Griefweaver' Grimm were apparently not meant to roam around these parts, but Steven cared little as it seemed one of their own had up and vanished; he didn't know Regis well at all, but the thought of finding some remainder of his body set panic and fear into him anyways, both of which he fought down. Glynda concluded their course of action, and team STNH followed along after her in hopes of finding the missing Hunstman by way of his scroll's signal.

Half an hour flew by, along with two spaced-out Griefweavers. Nicole's shotguns proved effective against the creatures, and with a single charge-up of his aura Steven got enough cutting power to break the thick hides they had. Helena had to stick with firing at the eyes and other soft parts while Teresa provided a good distraction. Ms. Goodwitch demolished the first one herself, but the second had been bigger than the last, making her allow their assistance in the requirement of time. Eventually, they found Regis' scroll lost in the water, and with no leads from there fell back to follow the rest of RSOL's trail as they had seemingly left their position; with Obaz hurt and Regis missing, they must have had to flee and were probably being chased by worse than Basili.

They reached the source of their scrolls' signals, but for a minute or two couldn't find them anywhere until Teresa cried out and fell over. The full number of team RSOL climbed out of the ground, hooded mystery man in custody. Their mission was considered done since Griefweavers were never on the menu in the first place; Ms. Goodwitch told them a job well done and had them maintain a secure path for the injured to the shuttle returning them to the academy. For team STNH, the time had gone over quite smoothly, again in contrast to RSOL's experience here.

/

A few days had gone by since then, and Steven had gotten another helping of gossip that sent him into a laughing fit; the day scheduled as Obaz and Yang's 'date' had been seen through for what it was some time ago; a rematch. It became noticeable as Glynda refrained from choosing either of them since that day for spars with others unless one of them weren't present. On the day the rematch was supposed to take place, however, Yang didn't come to class, and Obaz up and left a minute or two after the start of it; when asked why by a teammate, he was quoted saying, "To find Yang."

This sparked the original rumor that they were an item back to life, and it only got worse when Obaz started to drag her aside after classes she had. According to one student who had kept in eyeshot of them, he would take her hands in his own, they would exchange words he couldn't hear –sweet nothings, no doubt –and then they would either part ways, or he would take her somewhere even more private... Steven knew there was more to it, that there was a ridiculous misunderstanding that Obaz just didn't care to rectify, but for the life of him could not figure out just what it might be.

The only hint he ever got was through the grapevine; Teresa had asked offhandedly what the truth was to Yang's other teammates. Weiss had answered, much to Ruby's and Blake's puzzlement;

"Let's just say Yang's not very good at taking care of herself. Not good enough for his standards, anyway..." She walked away with a smirk, her red and black associates following after her with inquisitions that would be left unanswered.

/

The next three days or so weren't really eventful. Aside from Weiss, team RWBY's presence at the academy was scarce, while RSOL was basically cut in half; Obaz having been off the radar and Laera avoiding him deliberately, their business with Sophia and Regis was little but there no less. He had been considering going out into town to see what was on sale and stretch his legs, but was drawn to the broadcast on the news that Helena was glued to.

Steven listened on as reports of evacuation, military movement, explosions and gunfire all flooded in from the southern Vale and wharf areas, and as the news carried on he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach...


	2. Spar 1 (Ch, 10,5)

**Combat Class Sparring, Pt. 1**

Obaz was frowning, but for once it seemed to be for a reason. He looked to the rest of his team; "On the subject of names..."

Regis jumped on that before any of them could blink; "Yes, Obaz, your name is hilarious and weird. No need for a reminder."

"No, names of weapons. Ruby Rose spoke to me before about weapons being named rather specifically; she has Crescent Rose, for example, and Sophia has Matenlock. Do your weapons have names?"

Regis and Laera both nodded, Regis choosing to continue on with seriousness. "My greaves here are called Sable Regalia. Laera's oversized falchion-looking thing is called Precious Surge."

Laera huffed at Regis' impressive summary. "Precious Surge is dust-conducting basilard, made in a line of glyph-based technology close to Weiss' Myrtenaster."

Obaz nodded. "I see. If such titles are common among Hunters, I suppose she _would_ be rather underwhelmed by Mk. III, or Mk. IV for that matter..."

Glynda's voice halted basic exercises and announced the first pairing for spars; "Ruby Rose... and Laera Daylight." Regis patted Laera's shoulder, telling her it was a good day to get owned. She smacked his hand away and climbed the steps onto the stage, face to face with the smaller, cheery girl. She couldn't be as tough as the rumors had her believe... could she?

She drew her own blade, extending it to full length and setting the slide on the back to latch on the white dust cartridge. Ruby whipped out a scythe bigger than she was, twirled it around like it was nothing and cocked the mechanism for firing high-velocity bullets.

Ms. Goodwitch motioned for the match to commence, and Ruby was on her in a second. The younger girl was already inches from her with Crescent Rose raised, coming down for a vertical slash that Laera dodged just barely. Skipping forward and carrying the swing around her back to a good side swipe, the upper edge of the curve skinned Laera's blade once she held it up to defend herself. At the back end of that swing she fired, propelling herself after her opponent still retreating to come at her on an upward angle; Laera formed a glyph under her when she made this move that amplified her launch force and made her jump much higher than she had intended to with the slash.

Laera started an offense as Ruby righted herself, coming down with another swipe of Crescent Rose. Slipping to the left of the attack, Laera snapped a foot over toward Ruby's head that she ducked, but brought the leg back to stand on the shaft of Crescent Rose and pin it to the ground under her weight. Ruby was forced to let go of her weapon in order to dodge a sword coming for her abdomen, backing off until Laera gave chase, stepping between her and the scythe. Ruby used her semblance to get around Laera quicker than she could react; taking back Crescent Rose first, she carried the enhanced speed into a powerful drop kick sending Laera end-over-end across the stage.

Laera formed a glyph that she struck not so elegantly, having used it to keep her in the arena boundaries and from losing from a ring out. She clambered to her feet and deflected two swings of Ruby's scythe, taking a slash of her own at Ruby's legs which she hopped over easily, and they both took measured steps from one another once they broke away.

Unlike Weiss, who could maintain a number of Glyphs at once or within a short time span of one another, Laera was limited. Her glyphs were large and usually had a solid power behind them, but couldn't be used the way Weiss used hers; Laera accelerated herself with the use of her glyphs now, but had them appear at exact points where she would need a boost or need to make a sharp turn; easier to track, but harder to catch. Ruby began using her semblance again, and the two were clashing all over the stage before Laera finally gave up on out-manoeuvring the little scarlet speed demon.

Laera bunkered down and waited for Ruby to come to her, thinking she was getting nowhere with going after her. Ruby continued using her semblance, feinting a shot from the right to hit her from directly in front when she went to block the attack, jabbing Laera in the stomach with the pointed end of Crescent Rose's shaft and quickly using the blunt back of the scythe to bat her into the air. Ruby led the upswing into placement against the ground, firing while jumping at the same time to close in on Laera mid-air and give her a vertical whirling slash that sent her into the ground. Laera got up, having blocked it, but shakily as the force she was struck with and impact to the ground had both been hard.

"Winner: Ruby Rose." Glynda caught them both before they lunged again, Laera sighing and sheathing Precious Surge. After some words of encouragement and things to improve on from the teacher, she and Ruby stepped down from the same stairs, chatting with smiles like they weren't just hitting each other.

Regis leaned Laera's way as they both came back, the rest of RWBY now present having assumed Ruby would stay and chat with either Laera or Obaz. "How's that whiplash, Laera? Pretty big wreck you were in."

"Do you _ever_ speak outside of jokes and flirting?" Weiss interjected on her approach. He continued to harry Laera a little but kept the volume down, his eyes drawn more to Obaz and Yang standing side-by-side.

Obaz was still sore about the proclamation of a date she made some few days ago, and in spite of her best attempts at hinting she was sorry, he could either hold a grudge well or wouldn't acknowledge such subtle attempts. Regis wasn't entirely sure why she even wanted to be on good terms with the guy, but he could guess; most likely would be Obaz growing closer with her sister. Ruby probably had nothing but good things to say about him, and with the guy on Yang-specific lockdown she couldn't get him to say for what reasons he met with her younger sister. Obaz mostly studied and trained in his free time, but more than once Regis had seen him and Ruby simply talking.

Right now, Yang was standing next to him but couldn't find the words it so seemed. She struck up a bit of smalltalk, wherein she got his attention, and in seconds he was just walking away and she looked ready to crush his head. Regis stifled a laugh, hearing Glynda start picking and choosing again;

"Russell Thrush, and Lie Ren." That wasn't even worth watching. It would be a surprise if the match lasted any more than a minute. Even so, the little escapade after his loss where Cardin and the gang tried to cheer up and insult the guy simultaneously would be worth witnessing, so he chose to visit Cardin for a spell. Sophia watched him turn to the dark side with an irritable expression.

"I just don't get it. I don't. It's like being friends with a rock that everyone stubs their toe on aside from you." Obaz stood unmoving, listening to the analogy Sophia made with little else to give his attention to. His gaze flickered to Blake at intervals; Ruby had let slip a day ago that her black-haired team member had a tendency to process her for information each time she met with him. According to RWBY's leader, Blake was always the first to attentively listen when Ruby brought him up, and often kept her going on the subject. It seemed like she was still convinced they were acquainted from somewhere beforehand, and it was gnawing at the back of her mind. While his ears were trained on Sophia's grumblings and the fight on stage, his eyes were being drawn to that as well as Blake and Ruby, thinking about where they might have met given she really did recognize him. It was unlikely he had helped her with car troubles.

It was a shame that not one member of team STNH had this class with them. The twins had transferred in and out, but much like RSOL they were pieces that the teachers found hard to fit into the puzzle of Beacon scheduling. Of course they had combat class, just not the same one they did. Jaune probably wished they were here more than Obaz did simply so Steven could populate a class he were in with Cardin; Steven heard about the instances where Jaune was victimized by the villain but was never there when such things actually happened. Apparently, Steven was the type of guy who only needed a direct excuse to start either intervening peacefully or throwing punches.

Ren descended the steps, dusting off his sleeves and sharing a word with Nora. Nora shared at least fifty with him, mostly congratulations and compliments but when she said she would do just as well against any opponent she got, Glynda noted this.

"Alright then, Nora Valkyrie. Let's see... ah, Sophia Towers." The girls stepped up to the arena, Nora ready to crash down and Sophia prepared to break through. All eyes were glued to the stage as Glynda gave the go-ahead, Sophia springing her shield and Nora charging toward her.

The quarter-circle plate jumped in to defend against the battering force of Nora's repeated hammer strokes at Sophia's beckoning, and she was using the mechanism that set down and unleashed the shield to meet with a strong force of her own. Nora leaned back to evade a hard swing of Sophia's lance, but stumbled back when struck by the bottom of the gun barrel that Sophia rammed forward with. Sophia stepped out of the way of a kick, and nearly got demolished by an explosion-propelled attack as her opponent recovered.

She hadn't expected something like a war hammer to be swung by this hyperactive redhead at such speeds; watching Sophia successfully shield the bold weight of Nora's assault was like watching a battering ram bash into the gates of a fort but at a rate of twice per second. Even worse, she showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, and when she came in with an underhand stroke it took Sophia off her feet it landed her on her back. Thinking fast, she dodged the next meteoric hammer swing by drawing back Matenlock's lance and extending it against the floor, much like the spring mechanism of the shield the lance slid her across the arena floor and out of the impact crater that formed right behind her.

Now that there was some distance and Sophia had a handle on Nora's speed, she held her back with some thrusts of her lance that made Nora pick her ways to strike more carefully. This didn't last, much to Sophia's dismay, as Nora lost patience and hit the ground so hard the tremor made Sophia falter in her steps and let Nora start trying to shatter her defense again. Sophia made her own daring move once Nora came in for a horizontal stroke, stabbing the Matenlock into the floor and bringing up both hands for an axe-handle that knocked the hammer off course, over her head. She brought her clawed hand in for a backhand, punch to the jaw, and got one last kick to Nora's stomach before Nora jolted forward and not only slammed the top of her head into Sophia's nose, but kicked Matenlock out of its place in the ground, away from them both.

Nora got into a frenzy of hammer swings, and though Sophia manoeuvred around a good five of them the sixth caught her without a weapon. She blocked with her arms, but was sent careening over the side of the arena. "Winner: Nora Valkyrie." They had both been in the yellow area of their auras, neither of them had taken a great deal of damage, but the distance one was sent by Nora's attacks was simply too much.

Nora smiled a dazzling and bright grin, asking Ren half a dozen times if he saw as well as telling Sophia she did well. Ms. Goodwitch advised Sophia not to take gambles, and they briefly discussed Obaz' abandonment of the Mk. III being a mistake when he first fought against Yang Xiao Long before she was let go.

"That will be the last spar of the day. Class dismissed."


	3. The Darkmire, Pt 0

**RWBY / RSOL**

**The Darkmire, Pt. 0**

"Sean Roberts. How is the vacation going?" The swamp around them had been dead silent until Sean's phone had vibrated in his pocket, and he answered it. He and a dozen others were navigating the Darkmire on three rafts, each carrying five or so cages. Eight Griefweavers with their own cages, and seven containers with five to seven Basili each; the largest volume he had assisted yet in their pilgrimage. Sean responded with a contented voice;

"Coming along well, my friend. The kids are all strapped in; we're making good time." Of course, they both knew they weren't talking about a vacation. Until he reached the halfway house, they would speak over personal devices, and make sure they coded terms so nothing incriminating would be found in the event of an investigation.

He heard a grunt of approval on the other line. "Your window to get there is only a few minutes. Keep up the pace, Roberts." And just like that, the checkup was over with. The man wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Right now, exalted members of their faith had bought them the opportunity to move such a vast amount of Grimm, using a number of connections to cast a veil of surveillance tampering over the given area of the Mire they were passing through. They were literally carrying a black zone on the map with them until they reached the pit stop of sorts in this area, and from there would finish leaving the thick and grungy swamp to trek into Talek pass. A crevasse widened by yet more Idavollens would be taken from there, leading into the re-fit refinery that once processed dust mined out from beneath Osem peak. They still had a long road ahead of them, but it was well worth it; the facility made from the Osem refinery was the best they had made yet, containing Alpha Beowolves, Ursa, Nevermores, Loa, and rumor had it one of the inner rings had acquired a Barong. Soon, Griefweavers and Basila would join their ranks, and from there could be shipped through extended tunnels from the old mine. Much safer, yet to be even considered by law enforcement or those blasted Hunters.

Sean, of course, was simply the manager in this movement, keeping their time and work in line. Responsibilities lie with him, and he would make sure this went off without a hitch, though he was so far content with the professionalism his fellows had shown. It was Sean's sense of self-control that got him positions like these, a deskjob among cultists, of that he was certain; it was the only trait that made him stand out among his peers here in Idavollr. They were all dressed in black with white accents like he was, with their hoods up just in case. Just one of them was an exception.

Brother Zalarex, as they called him, was nearly seven feet tall. He had similar clothes to theirs, but a mantle and waistcloth of white with symbolism woven in showed he was higher in the caste. His hood was down, and his jaw was as square as a cinderblock while his eyes were just a tiny bit too close together. His hair was shaved at the sides, left an inch or so at the top and back of a light brownish-teal color, like the froth on a sandy beach. His muscles bulged like he was perpetually flexing, his shoulders were wide and powerful, and he stood near the middle of the raft next to the cages full of Grimm. They had snarled at him until he chose to make eye contact, and they quieted down soon after. Sean could swear that the raft was an extra few inches, maybe even a foot deeper submerged than the other floating devices because Zalarex was on it.

Right now it was a hassle to propel their transports, using oars and sticks to push against the water and mud but they had better means to leave the halfway house once they were loaded up there. One of the men took buckets of fresh meat from the cooler and started routinely feeding the Grimm in their cages, the Griefweavers always wary of the meal for the first few seconds but the Basila eagerly tearing it apart amongst one another.

Minutes passed, and they saw the first body of solid ground in hours. They beached the square transports, stretched out their kinks, and got to work; using a car jack, six of them lifted one side of the rafts to pop out small wheels that were spiked like cleats, followed by lifting and popping the other side of each. The other six had cleared away the camouflage and debris covering the massive sliding doors covering the freight elevator. It would only be taking them about two stories down.

The pit stop they had in the Darkmire was a stroke of luck much like the refinery; a pharmaceutical company had dug up this land and begun building a safehouse for the less permissible side of their trade, and had gotten a foundation as well as ample space constructed. Their business went under scrutiny around the time they had hoped to move the suspicious product, however, and were forced to abandon the site. One of the workers they had hired to use the power equipment remembered the space once joining Idavollr, and it took no time to make use of it.

Sean had climbed into the service hatch ahead of the rest of the crew, as a report was expected of him soon, so he made a B-line to the technical room. Zalarex moved the second raft in to position to get on the elevator by himself while others were taking the first down. The man was an unimaginable brute.

Setting down his knapsack once at the bottom of the stairs, the technical room welcomed him with dozens of fans trying to keep the damp air from settling and the hum of computer systems. Sean sat down, taking a quick and much-needed drink from a water bottle now lukewarm, and got to typing. He kept a window open showing their own surveillance records, unimpeded by the tampering taking place to keep them hidden, though he could only see the outer perimeter of the place; having hardware like cameras running constantly inside the compound would reveal every detail of their work and likely their plans from there, given anyone got their hands on it, so the walls and corners around them were bare.

Twenty minutes passed. He wasn't quite done with his report, but stopped punching the keys when he heard something echo down the stairs. Metal clattering, voices, growling and soon louder voices. Sean was well aware that everything had just gone right to hell before he could blink twice.

He took a handgun loaded with tranquilizers from his pack, as it was the only weapon their group was permitted, and ascended the stairs to assess the situation. By the time he got upstairs the shutter gates were closed, there were signs of damage to the elevator shaft but nothing major, some dribbles of blood. There was a shredded Idavollr uniform on top of the raft currently on the elevator platform; one of the wheels had snapped off and the resulting tilt made the weight of the cages slide and fall over. Four cages were open and torn, all of which were Griefweaver containers.

The second and first rafts were in better shape, but the closest of the two had been damaged slightly and two of the Griefweaver cages there were open. He arrived just fast enough to witness one of the remaining two Griefweavers attempt to leave through the damaged door on its cage, Zalarex walking up to slam both his fists and forearms into the beast's chest to shove it back inside. He grasped the injured bars near the broken lock, twisting them into a knot to seal it shut. No one asked him any questions.

"Enryu be merciful, what have you all done? Tell me we still have a male and female Weaver." Sean sounded surprisingly calm. Nine of the original twelve workers were at hand, the other three presumably dead. The inner circles would have his ass for this, even though it wasn't his fault. He thought better of it and began formulating something to make of the situation.

The workers under his watch were bickering and making up excuses, but Sean silenced them and set them back to work with the remaining two rafts, though one did at least confirm that the remaining two Griefweavers were opposite genders. He then approached Zalarex. "Brother, I would like to make the most of this blunder. Would you heed my requests?" Polite as he could be, he hoped the man wouldn't squeeze him to death on the spot. Instead, he got approval.

"What do you wish of me, Brother Sean?" He sounded almost gentle.

"I would have you first release three cages of Basila aboveground, where the Griefweavers have escaped to. It pains me to do so, but they will assist as prey for the Griefweavers to survive the shock of environmental change. Second, disposal of the third raft. We can no longer use it, and I would like that piece of evidence removed. It could be traced back to a manufacturer."

Zalarex nodded grimly. "Good thinking. It shall be done." The man clasped his hands and bowed in a way Sean didn't recognize, and went to follow his orders. If Sean could improvise and make the escape an observation of Grimm in slightly varying habitat differences, the data could be of use to Idavollr.

He cleaned up the fallen cooler with feed for the Grimm from the third raft and set it on the second, and also assisted in shifting the broken cages aside for traffic to come and go down the wide hallway. There was roughly a half an hour left to prepare and depart, and he needed to finish his report now filled with disaster. When he touched up and submitted the file, he went back up to help the final preparations.

Zalarex had dragged the third raft out alone, destroyed the floatation on the bottom, and tied a few of the gaping and useless cages to it to weigh it down. From there he had searched out the deepest nearby pool and pushed it in with a grunt, soaking himself up to the chest in making sure the dead equipment would not rise to gain anyone's attention.

Two of the crewmen had taken three of the Basili cages as asked and set them on the elevator, sending it up for Zalarex to release the creatures. He snapped the lock on each cage, shaking the contents until they were all out, and hurled the cages into other varying pools to the east of there. The little Grimm would have ganged up in confidence on Zalarex given they were part of the same litter, but felt competitive with one another and soon all went their separate ways. Even if they had been feeling up to taking the man on, he likely could have intimidated them into thinking otherwise.

His return to the facility revealed that the nine remaining crewmembers were prepared to leave, and more than willing. Zalarex dried himself off, changed, and went to find Sean. The man was cool as ice about the development, and he had to respect that kind of self-control.

"We may leave at anytime."

"Father Sethiker has replied to my report." Zalarex' eyes narrowed. That was about as tight as the circles got; some said the Father was the founder of Idavollr himself. Sean continued;

"He wishes that I remain here for the next two days and observe the experiment I've devised from the mistake. You are to overtake leadership of the expedition, and I will follow afterward." Not all too pleased with the change of plans, Sean slumped a bit. Zalarex put a hand on his shoulder, which came as a surprise that it didn't dislocate the body part.

"You did well to isolate the scenario. Enryu looks upon you with pride, I am sure. We can leave one or two of the crewmen here, if you would like more hands." Sean shook his head no.

"They would only get in the way. All I need to do is watch and learn from these great creatures; nothing difficult. Be on your way, Brother, and luck be with you." That hand-clasping bow again, and Zalarex was gone. Sean listened as the hovercraft their cargo had been transferred to roared to life, and the sound of the vehicle soon faded away without him.

/

Over the next day and a half, Sean had kept himself up with instant coffee that he had in his pack, eaten a few protein bars, and sat at a computer doing basically nothing. It was interesting to watch the Basila populace explode like it had, forming a den overnight and breeding like rabbits to overcome their minor differences while the Griefweavers all lost color specifically to the humps on their backs; their blowhole of sorts had faded solely to match the gritty, silt-colored beaches around the Darkmire. The developments had been sent to his superior that had originally been checking up on him; he was no longer Sethiker's problem.

He had developed some light stubble, where normally he would have shaved as soon as he felt scratchy. It drove him mad that he hadn't the means to do so, but had no trouble keeping himself from dozing off at least. It had appeared that things would go over smoothly and he could leave this place behind the next morning. His monitors had laughed at him with proximity alerts for being optimistic, and within a few minutes Sean had windows up showing a vessel land on the borderline between a meadow-like area west of the Mire.

Eight... no, nine people vacated the transport to press into the territory where his observations were happening. Minutes later, they were spreading out and attracting the Basila... to kill them on the spot. Goddamned Hunters were what they were. He thought he recognized the one; wasn't that the playboy from the Agemont family? Most definitely it was. He wanted a word with that one, and Regis as his name really was gave him that chance later.

Sean sighed dejectedly, sending the last of his data as well as the images of the hunters responsible for his derailing plans to his superior, breaking all ties once complete. He traced back and deleted, deleted, deleted everything the systems were connected to, and then deleted the memory of having deleted things. There were a few files left over that weren't quite a risk yet, and some that were hard to get rid of, and he prepared the dreaded 13th Allegory string for those. After that, knowing there was no way he could get out undetected, he waited.

Sean idly played with his false tooth, drinking from a canteen of lukewarm lighter fluid instead of lukewarm water. Sean had a great deal of self-control.


	4. Streetlight (Valentine's gift)

**Streetlight**

|**This is a what-if scenario that was requested of me on Valentine's Day; essentially, it's a one-shot fluff chapter between Yang and Obaz. When I get such a request **_**on Valentine's Day specifically,**_** it's hard to turn down. So here we are... **

**You know you've got an avid fan when they make their own shipping term for your character and another; **_**Streetlight**_** is the gray-yellow equivalent of the popular **_**White Rose **_**term for white-red Weiss X Ruby, for example**_**.**_** I was flattered into writing this thing out... Enough rambling; you can read on now if romance is what you're looking for. Happy Valentine's Day, however late.|**

Yang lay above of her covers in the top bunk, restless. She wished someone were there to talk to, but the three of her teammates had business promising not to unhand them for the rest of the night. Having browsed both her scroll and her schnellphone for someone to call and hang out with, not one person she felt like spending her time with answered those calls; now she was just staring at the ceiling, thinking maybe she should skim through one of Blake's books even if it would cost her later. Blake didn't like it when those were touched, and she could always tell when they had been, somehow.

She had changed into her shorts and tank top once giving up on the idea of going out, and her languor would have led into a nap for lack of a better option had the door not opened, breathing life into her attention and having her rise up to greet whichever girl had returned early. Her uplifted hand waved to not a girl, but Obaz, and he was squinting at her. Just holding him in her gaze made her groan and lie back down.

"... You know why I am here."

"Go away." A fun Obaz sounded synonymous to friendly Cardin or talented Jaune. She wasn't interested.

"This conversation sounds familiar, does it not?" He was hinting that the outcome would be the same as the first time; he would either wrap up her hands again or they would beat the crap out of one another behind the firing range. Yang felt both were too far away from her bed.

She rolled over in her spot, flipping her pillow so the cool side was up. "I'm fine. It's all healing over well..." She heard his hand placed on the side of her bunk, and she felt the urge to roll back over and punch him in the eye –but that would definitely make her feel active, and she still wasn't supposed to do any of the good training. She shifted to face him, propping her head in one hand while the other tapped across the mattress. She gave him a most displeased look; sadly it didn't crack that impenetrable poker face of his.

"You're gonna climb into bed with me, huh?" The discussion was still being repeated, but her tone was much more daring than last. 'Just try it', she said.

"Yes. If you do not move from there." He held up three fingers from the hand clutching her bedside. The ring finger dropped, and she wasn't moving. The middle toppled, and she stared him down. Once the index finger fell, his other hand snapped up like a viper to try and take her hand and bring it to him. She wriggled back faster than he lashed out, back to the wall and arms tucked in. She was just barely out of reach from there.

"Not happening. Cheater." She said, slightly teasing now in spite of herself. Obaz sighed, and after a moment's pause he turned away; it looked like he was giving up, until he bent out of her sight, stood straight again, and walked over to the door to set his shoes on a mat next to it. _'Oh, how thoughtful.' _She couldn't sound more sarcastic speaking aloud.

Obaz returned and set both hands on the bed, pushing himself up to her level. Yang lazily held him back with one foot, pushing him off until he tried again and succeeded in diverting her interfering leg. He was on all fours for a moment until he found a way in the restricted space to get cross-legged. His hands were palms-up, waiting for hers to be willingly placed into them. She had returned to her almost-pinup pose that showed her confidence.

"Breaking into girls' rooms, crawling into their beds and making grabby hands? Wouldn't Ms. Goodwitch like to hear about this...?" He looked as stony as a lawyer in court. She flicked the brim of his hat and knocked it off his head, getting it to fall onto the floor much too far below for him to retrieve without leaving his hard-earned position.

"Are you done?" Obaz had the attitude of an adult waiting out a child's tantrum. Yang stuck out her tongue. Very mature.

Minutes rolled by in silence. He wasn't going to force her cooperation, but he wasn't leaving until he got what he wanted either. Yang sighed; sitting up like it was a crime to do so, and setting her hands knuckles-up in his. Obaz studied them with all the focus of a jeweller appraising some precious stone.

"These are tightly wound, still clean... So you _do_ learn." She thought she saw a fleeting smirk, but it was gone just as fast as she tried to tilt her head and get a better view. That distraction gone, she mumbled under her breath, something about how derisive he could be.

"Are you still in pain?"

"Well, yeah. Otherwise I'd be pummeling you right now." Obaz frowned, though she was joking... maybe. She took it as a sign of concern; "Well, there isn't much you can do about that... unless you wanna kiss it better."

He gave her a quizzical look, having a hard time reading between the lines, as usual. As she went to tell him that was a joke, Obaz craned his neck, lifted her left hand, and pressed his lips to her bandage.

Yang's thought process came to a full halt, trying to dissect what she had just witnessed. Obaz –yes, that's right, _Obaz_ –had kissed her. On the hand. Well, that was a token of respect, a courtesy in some countries, no big deal. Half a dozen more strings of reasoning like this formed in her head, and each time the thought _'he kissed me'_ drowned such thoughts until that was all that was left, because that was the only thing that mattered about this moment. From head to toe, Yang flushed scarlet, and drew her hands back from the sandy-haired boy in front of her.

Obaz looked confused again, but it was cautionary, as her reaction said he had done something wrong. This was unknown territory, and he was blind navigating it. "... are you alright?" Maybe he pressed too hard, causing more pain.

She nodded. Her hand was tingling, but it hadn't hurt. It occurred to her that any other boy in this situation would be getting the beating of his life, but Obaz' character made clear that he had only adhered to her request, nothing more. No ploy to get into her good graces, no hidden agenda. He just wanted her to feel better, and that fact had her reacting far differently than she would.

So it happened that when Obaz thought he should go to leave, Yang blushed even more upon putting her hands back in his. "... I've got two hands, you know."

Once seeing that Yang was bright as a stop sign, Obaz realized how she was interpreting his actions with the awkwardness of a teenager that not once thought of intimacy. He wanted to abandon ship, but he was the one who had stubbornly put himself here, and she was asking him what he saw as a favor for an injured friend. This indecision led him to clumsily take her other hand and kiss the back of it, and unless she told him he could go, they were trapped.

"Better?"

"... not quite." He kissed each of her hands again, lingering in the act in hopes of that being satisfactory. All it seemed to do was tempt her to lie and have him try once more; she was surprised when even his cheeks were starting to change shades to a light red.

Obaz watched her expectantly. Without his hat on, his hair had naturally parted in certain places and made eye contact more possible; honestly, he wasn't all that attractive. His hair was a dirty blonde that seemed lackluster were they to walk side by side. His facial features weren't captivating. He had the nicest, straightest teeth she ever did see, but almost never did see them since the guy never did smile. His eyes had those signs of late nights and early mornings, never sleeping. Not to say he was off-putting; she just wouldn't pick the boy out of a crowd. Despite all this, she liked the tone of his voice; it remained the same most often, yes, but it was calm, cool, like every word could easily reassure and those subtle changes you could inflict with some effort all felt like a small victory. The hazel of his eyes captured every moment and left nothing behind, every memory she treasured with him could be played back. He hadn't lied once since she met him, and though he was stubborn as an ox it was always for good reason, like helping her heal so she could come back to normal routine. Had he bit down his jealousy every time he gently tended her two hands; twice more than he still owned?

Yang reached out and touched the side of his face, and Obaz flinched like it were ice-cold, drawing away and nearly falling off the bunk. He righted himself, and his eyes flickered a dark blue until he was straight and still. How many people had a semblance that changed their eye color? How likely was it that she had met with another? That blue had been her favorite in a boy?

Obaz was looking at his hands like he usually did for answers. For the first time he wouldn't find a trace there. She had an urge to hug him, hold him close, mesh her hand with his and fall asleep with his company. Suddenly coming out with that or worse yet trying to lead him into it would just send Obaz teetering off the bunk again, and this time he would let himself tumble just so he could get up and walk away.

Just watching him sit there and think, think, think in that unendingly active mind of his was annoying. Did he ever listen to his heart? Did it even have a voice anymore, always being shut out by that temperamental brain? Yang adjusted so she sat on her shins, legs folded, and leaned toward Obaz so she could move his bangs and kiss his forehead. She had done it while in this recent train of thought, and by the time she noticed she had done something it was already over. He looked confused, like when this whole exchange first started.

"Why did you do that?"

"I kissed it better." Yang said matter-of-factly.

Obaz blinked a few times. She saw other people do that when bewildered, but not him. "... I see."

"You can return the favor anytime... Now would be a good time for me." She wanted to say she hurt all over. It was the sweetest lie she ever came up with.

"Yang... I just..." Obaz trailed off. He seemed at a loss for words, another first. He slipped his fingers through her hair, moving it back a little as he got closer. He was so close...

... and then everything went dark.

/

"Yang! Wake up already! You sleep like a rock!" Ruby's shrill voice woke her. Yang was slow to rise at first, but when her dream put itself back together in her head she almost jumped into the ceiling. She dreamt about Obaz kissing her. Her first instinct when this seemed undeniable was to hit things and try to forget, but she couldn't hit things and she wouldn't forget. Not anytime soon; that was one of those vivid dreams that stays with you for weeks, and every now and then you remember much further down the road. Oh dear god, it was one of those.

It couldn't have meant anything.

She had no deeply hidden desire to hug Obaz, hold him close, mesh her hand in his and fall asleep with his company. Though that was an oddly specific thing to _not_ bury in the dark corners of your inner vault... One day soon she was going to knock him out with more contempt than he seemed to deserve.

"Falls asleep before we even get here and sleeps even longer than we do..." Weiss chose to shake her head in envy rather than finish the statement, completing her usual look with the pin in her hair. There was a knock at the door, and Blake opened it to reveal Obaz in the doorway. Yang felt something flutter in her chest, and wrote it off as nothing.

"Greetings." Blake allowed him to step inside, leaving as soon as he was no longer blocking her path. Ruby looked up at him from a chair near their dresser when he spoke to her;

"I believe I might have forgotten my hat here yesterday evening. Have you seen it?"

Something lit up in Yang's head, but she couldn't tell what exactly. Ruby tapped a finger to her chin; "Um... I think I saw it last night. Oh!" She pointed to the base of the bunk topped with Yang's own, a hint of denim by the post in the corner. "Someone must have knocked it onto the floor."

Yang loomed over the side of her bunk. She stared at the hat, wide-eyed. There was just no way this could be real. Obaz yoinked the headwear off the ground and set it snugly; she hadn't even noticed the uncommon sight of him without it since he wasn't wearing it in most her dream. Hell, it was even more uncommon for him to forget the thing somewhere. Looking up at her as she lurched over the bedside, their eyes locked. She felt in need of a drink.

"You slept well, it sounds to me. I apologize; I could not come here and change the bandages on your hands last night." Something in her throat suddenly weighed like lead and dropped into her belly. Disappointment? Relief?

"Are we still on for target practice today?" Ruby cut in. Obaz nodded to her, and then turned back to Yang as she began to speak.

"You can stop coming to fix them. I can do it right myself now." She even had mixed feelings for her own words now. She blinked rapidly when he replied;

"... I figured."

The corner of his mouth moved; possibly signs of the fabled smirk. The lead weight rose back up as she watched him go with a wave to Weiss.

Yang sat and brooded over the dream and the subsequent morning... She occasionally touched one hand with the other, lost in thought.


	5. What is 'Tickling' (Ch, 12,5)

**What is 'Tickling'? (Ch. 12.5)**

**|This was strictly for fun. Apologies if any of the canon cast stray a little bit from their characters, but I tried my best.|**

Today was the day that Obaz was meant to keep his arrangement with Mr. Oobleck, and even though he clearly wasn't fond of doing it Obaz was good at making the class think more creatively regarding a certain piece of history on any given day. Assuming he hadn't put together a semi-lesson on whatever they might be learning in class when he was called upon like this, Obaz' ability to improvise was just as good academically as it was physically.

Because of this, he hadn't noticed Laera and Yang sitting further back than usual in the class and whispering conspiratorially. Laera knew that he was most distracted when made to lecture like this, so she felt it almost safe to assume he couldn't hear them or didn't care to listen at the distance they were. Shortly before they entered the class, Yang had been muttering angrily about Obaz' behaviour ever since they had sparred together a handful of days ago. Since then, he had eaten lunch with Ruby three times, helped her late at night with homework twice... and most of all, according to Ruby; 'had a private session at the gun course' with her. She had claimed his marksmanship needed work, but was impressed by his 'equipment'.

Of course, when told all of this, Yang decided it was time to get to the bottom of things with Obaz himself. That was when she discovered that he was angry with her in the first place; if she so much as said a word to him he would frown, maybe even grunt, and walk away from her. If she persisted, he would round on her and blatantly refuse or shoot down anything she said, hop back on his merry way and be out of her sight in seconds. Afterwards, even browsing his usual haunts wouldn't turn him up.

Weiss had made her sit down for a moment when it appeared she might burst a blood vessel with how much he aggravated her lately; he was giving a whole new meaning to the words 'cold shoulder', and Yang wasn't used to being utterly shut down like that. She wasn't used to any person acting that way near her let alone _to_ her; she wasn't used to Obaz himself, one could say, and maybe she never could get used to him –he was a brick wall to the headstrong, direct way she dealt with others.

Today, shortly before they left the hallway into class, Yang had tried asking the gossipmonger Laera what she may have seen or heard about Obaz that were 100% truth, interested in anything involving her sister. Laera was still glowering over their fight they had after the phone call with her father, and had responded with what little she could tell Yang that she knew was true, amusedly adding the story about trying to tickle him only to find he didn't even know what it meant. Since then, Yang had been most intrigued.

"Where do you think he _is _ticklish, then?" Yang wondered. The question sparked their imaginations, and bearing in mind Obaz had not treated either of the two all that well lately, finding out sounded precariously close to 'payback'.

"I tried his ribs already, and you know how that turned out. Maybe the neck? Back of the knees?" They both skimmed over the boy with their eyes like lions stalking a zebra, deciding whether to go straight for the throat or knock out the legs first. Maybe they should take him down when the herd moved on; have Ruby distract him so he leaves in dead last, wide open. It was a rule of nature that the stragglers were targeted, surely Obaz even knew.

"He'll kick and he'll scream. He doesn't make anything easy." Laera talked like they were cornering a rabid beast. Yang seemed to relish the challenge.

"Yeah, but we might have him laughing by the end. Maybe even smiling. Have you ever seen him do either of those things?" Laera would soon find Obaz could laugh, but only when Regis had a golden moment that was actually comical, which basically meant he laughed perhaps once a year. Right now, the thought of having Obaz in the grips of a tickle fit was like having someone dare you to go into old man Denker's haunted house; test the urban legend and possibly risk your young life.

They sized up their own forces; Yang seemed certain of herself. "We'll have to trick Ruby into helping if we need her to, but that won't be hard. Blake is almost sure to join willfully. Weiss... wants to watch, but she'll act like she doesn't. You?"

"He's like an awkward teddy bear to Sophia; she won't lay a finger on him. Regis is probably in, just not hands-on." Three, maybe four against one. The odds were with them, at least. After classes, Obaz would visit the courtyard for a moment –Yang and Laera would have to rope together their group and follow quickly.

"What about me?" Nora was sitting in the row of seats left of them, and her whispering was still obnoxiously loud. She had overheard them... Pyrrha and Ren had their eyes on the plotting Laera and Yang as well, a certain glimmer in their eyes. Their pride of predators had just doubled.

"Nora can't do stealth." Ren dryly said.

"I can too! Remember the sloth sound?!" Obaz snapped on Nora, instantly hitting her with two questions that she tried to answer in her bubbly, content manner. He cut that manner and the answers she supplied with cold resentment, and soon went back to the rest of the class. Nora sat down, her smile faltering for just a moment.

The floundering of Nora's never-ending smile was almost like watching Obaz' omnipresent frown come out victorious. Laera sighed. "You'll get your chance, Nora. Just... stay farther back until we go through with it."

"I'll tickle his head off." Nora claimed. They didn't put it past her to do so literally.

Class was dismissed, Obaz aiming to be the first one out but Oobleck wanted a word with him; something he said about Cardin earlier in the class had sparked an argument. They wouldn't even need Ruby to stall him for the time being, so Yang and Laera zipped out of class to catch Blake, Weiss and Regis in the hallway.

Regis proved to be what they had expected of him; given the chance he would trip the fleeing Obaz or other such tricks, but not actively participate. Weiss, much the same, said he was the last person she wanted anything to do with today but followed the group with airs of not being involved. Blake smirked impishly at the prospect of sneaking up on Obaz for such harmless reasons... cats did love to play, after all, and Obaz was like a ball of yarn no one could seem to unravel.

They tailed Obaz to the courtyard, as they had anticipated of him, and he briefly chatted with Steven who called him over partway through speaking with Jaune himself. Upon leaving the two to their own devices, the girls and Ren crept after him, all trying to look natural and spread themselves out according to team members. The plan was perfect, and they started to close in on their unsuspecting prey... what they weren't counting on was Steven's belligerent interference at the last second, having noticed their odd behaviour;

"Pretty popular, aren't you, Obaz?!" He called out after the sandy-haired Huntsman. Being called out in specific, Obaz would always undoubtedly turn to reply even if it were an extension of his farewell… so he turned around, saw five women and a boy that weren't supposed to be so close or looking at him so hungrily, and paused for not a moment before bolting from the spot.

Ren was catching up alongside Laera and Blake, while Pyrrha, Nora and Yang were at least keeping pace. Once they chased him around the fountain Pyrrha jumped in, cutting through the water and diving out at Obaz to miss by a hair but trip him up slightly. Blake caught a hold of one of his feet in her own dive and miss, Obaz frantically wriggling his boot free of her grasp and escaping. Laera grabbed his arm and he wrestled it back, and just when Ren looked like he might succeed in Obaz' capture he shouted in the panic of someone lost beyond reason for the only person it seemed was on his side; "STEVEN!"

Steven was already darting from the next part of his conversation with Jaune, intercepting Ren and taking him down with rolling laughter. They struggled and Steven got up, being held back by Ren and now Pyrrha as well. Nora started building speed and kept in step with the faster members on Obaz' heels as they got back into the front doors of Beacon. Weiss shook her head, not attempting to follow that far as it was sure to become hectic keeping up.

Steven had cut his pursuers by two, but there were four more with competitive grins that resembled wolves all chasing the same elk. Obaz ran faster, with straight posture that Blake found some piece of her mind admiring; it reminded her of a certain film actor. Tim Cruise? The name was something of that sort. He hung the next corner and ran into the cafeteria, where a few handfuls of students were scattered around for a late lunch break; they would get to see a spectacle with their food today.

Obaz' first order of business was jumping onto the far end of a lunch table, see-sawing it into an upright position and kicking it that way to seal the door behind him. It held Nora for maybe a fraction of a second as she barreled through it with a shoulder charge that launched it tumbling on an angle past Obaz now. The other three girls swerved in to take different sides and try to box him in before he left out some other exit. Nora leaped into the air and tried to land on him in hopes of pinning him down, but he dipped down and left, under a table and out of her reach.

The girls swarmed the table, each on one side. Obaz grasped two of the table legs and kept it with him as he got upright, using it to rush Blake who circled the makeshift riot shield like a ghost and jabbed a hand into his neck, fingers wiggling wildly and causing him to cinch his head and shoulder together in attempts to clamp the limb and make it stop whatever the hell it was doing. He vaguely recalled a similar sensation; the early onset of what Laera once tried to do.

Tickling? This was about trying to _tickle_ him? What had he done to warrant this? He hadn't evaded any questions lately... other than Laera's concerning Mr. Petto. And every advance Yang made. Laera and Yang were no doubt behind this considering these motives and their covert conversation in the back end of the history room... Damned if he could have heard what they were talking about and it had eaten at him during class because he could almost _sense_ they hadn't wanted him to know. Trying to discard the event had led to this... nonsensical blindsiding he was being subjected to.

Obaz whirled to escape Blake's reach now, and when Yang's hands almost got a solid grasp of his arm he fell backward, winding up under the table again but pushing it screeching along the ground until he was past Blake and Yang, rolling out from under it and resuming the sprint away from these crazy girls. The miscellaneous students nearby watched in wonder as he vaulted over a few chairs, some occupied, running for another hallway when Laera tackled him into that hall as he tried to turn. She clung on like a vice grip as he tried to stand, yelling to the others fast approaching; "Get his boots! Bottom of the feet!"

Who in their right mind invented this tickling activity, and better yet why did it apply to something like the bottoms of your feet?

Nora had a hand on each of his boots and reefed on them, and Obaz kicked her in the shoulder. Laera was attached from behind him, and he thrashed and wriggled in her deathly embrace until he flung his head back, hitting hers and causing a startled yelp that eased her grip. He freed himself, but Nora had succeeded in taking his boots away and Blake landed on his back with her arms wrapped around his neck, poking on either side.

Obaz made a sound in response to the attack that may have been a repressed laugh, but sounded like choking on steel wool or something equally as painful. Yang thought for a moment that maybe his vocal cords were rusted from not having made such sounds in so long, just before watching Obaz lunge backfirst into the wall to break out of Blake's hold and beat feet toward the hall adjoining to the locker rooms.

None of them were really harmed, but rattled all the same by Obaz' tenacity. Yang and Laera were closest on him having expected as much from the guy, and when passing the locker rooms Obaz was grabbed by a pair of arms striking from the crack of the open door lightning-fast, dragging him inside.

Pyrrha now had him in some variety of headlock, grip like iron. Ren was missing from the equation it seemed, and Pyrrha called out to the others as he writhed. "I've got him... hurry up! It's like holding greased ice!"

Yang made it in and grabbed one flailing leg, Nora taking another while Blake and Laera each went to take an arm. Obaz' right was claimed but his left arm got more violent, even grabbing a locker and throwing it onto its side. They would soon have him, and more than just wherever he may be 'ticklish' would be found.

Steven appeared in the doorway, and Obaz could almost see a glow radiating from him like the paragon of virtue that he was before he scooped up Yang and Nora. He had one in the crook of each arm, lifting them off the ground away from Obaz and bellowing a mighty "Nope!" Perhaps he just found it fun to fight the losing battle in these scenarios.

He fell over as the girls tried to fight him off, but tilted so the three fell away from the door. Obaz kicked off the floor and went upside-down for a moment above Pyrrha, Laera releasing his arm in fear it might twist abnormally and Pyrrha reluctantly releasing his head when she started to fall backward in a suplex-like motion. He had a path zig-zagging between the girls to the open door, but Ren caught up and filled the doorway though he was panting with exhaustion from dealing with Steven and eventually having failed. Rapidly searching a way out, he threw down another locker between himself and Laera along with Pyrrha before finding a narrow window that he eased open and crawled out from. There was the feeling of nails that barely raked the arches of his feet, and he cried out in what may have been surprise.

This was a terrible day. Obaz made a mental note to hate this day. It would be his least favorite day from now on, until certain misfortunes in southern Vale near the wharf topped it.

He turned to face the window, and what was happening behind him almost got him to laugh. It was so close to the outcome they wanted without nearly the same methodology that it was downright hilarious, but Obaz strangled his urge to laugh just to spite them and chose instead to sit down and watch.

That very narrow space was like a mail slot really, and no matter how hard she tried Yang was simply… too well-equipped in certain areas to fit through like he had, being the somewhat gaunt person that he was. She glared at him while trying to give chase, a fire in her eyes that could burn cities to the ground, and finally someone else chose to take her place while advising Yang to go around. Pyrrha, being this reasonable individual, got stuck next. Laera and Nora didn't even try, and Blake may have been able to bend her way through somehow being what she was, but Obaz had no chance to find out as Ren was next in line; he had forgotten the green-clad male was even involved, and soon this member of JNPR was slithering out from the window like an iniquitous snake.

Obaz fled the scene; having waited too long, Yang had trekked around the building from another exit, already alongside Ren and hot on his heels. There were few ways to go from here, and it was unlikely he could lose them from the gun range... Without warning, he jumped up and clung to the window just outside Peter Port's current class, drawing all the heads in the room as he began to scale the building freestyle. Ren started climbing after him with haste.

He threw an arm over the edge of the roof, and Blake awaited him at the top of the building with a confident smirk; she must have seen him when he started the action, and either leapt up here with her aura or climbed much faster with her feline prowess. Obaz introduced her to one of his talents that she was sure to love; when she stooped down to claim him from the ledge he put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth and whistled. Her greater hearing caused Blake to reel back like he was radioactive, cringing as the noise reverberated in her head and threw her off just enough for Obaz to strike out at a run across Beacon's roof.

Pyrrha and Nora were both reaching the roof now opposite the way he came from, Yang herself not far behind, and lacking a better route from here Obaz threw himself into some kind of exhaust vent for the heating ducts. Tumbling down the shaft, he struck stainless steel for a little while until the full force of his weight crashed through the ceiling… of none other than Ms. Goodwitch's office.

The teacher was in, as luck would have it. Glynda adjusted her glasses, peering over her desk at the student on the floor, surrounded by tin sheets of duct, bits of stucco and paint dust. Obaz sat up abruptly, taking in his surroundings. Nonchalantly, he got to his feet, brushed himself off, and looked Ms. Goodwitch in the eye. "My apologies; I will pay for those repairs. Now, if you would excuse me; I am currently being chased."

Obaz walked out of the room and came to a jog once in the hallway. Glynda sat with her best displeased instructor face on in wait of who turned out to be Yang dropping in next, followed closely by Nora face-first. They both looked at her, Yang turning white as a sheet and leaving with some rapid-fire apologies of her own while Nora was beaming as she simply left. Glynda shook her head. Kids these days...

/

They lost Obaz once he left the office, and no amount of searching turned him up. After a time the crack team gave up the mission for now, parting ways and returning to their dorms. Yang and Blake were mildly plotting a good time to try all that again, but after that Yang said good-bye and went to visit some other friends of hers. Blake intended to pick up her most recent book from where she left off.

Opening the door to their dorm room, Blake was greeted by none of her teammates, but Obaz was standing between the bunks and in the process of something on his scroll. How he had gotten in by himself was a mystery, but it was damned clever of him to hole up here, though unfortunate that he had chosen to stay for so long.

Blake locked the door behind her.

Obaz dropped the scroll and tensed up.

There was a flicker of movement from both sides as Blake tried to tackle him to the floor and Obaz attempted to duck beneath the expected lunge, but only succeeded in taking a cat girl to the chest instead of the waist. Once she had him by his shoulders against the wall, he held his hands up in surrender. There was no space to fight her off, and she would have him in some other, more uncomfortable restraining position by the time he tried to disengage the lock. "Alright. You have caught me."

"Is that so?" Blake wasn't so trusting right now. They both turned their heads when Ruby's voice emanated from his scroll;

"Obaz? It's getting kinda late. What's up?"

"Call off your sister and her friends, for heaven's sake –"

Blake hung up the call, and Obaz showed discontent like it wasn't his usual expression. They locked eyes for a little while, Blake having a stir of déjà vu, which passed when Obaz stopped resisting with an agitated sigh. Blake prodded him in the neck, the sides, the back of the knees, feet. No response at all. He seemed outright defensive of his left arm, so she left it be; it may turn out to be a sore spot for reasons outside sensitivity, if her ears were any example.

"So you simply aren't ticklish... That's rather anti-climactic." Blake made a small frown. Like he had when they met in the training room, Obaz felt at odds with himself when he beheld it.

"I would like to take my leave, if you do not mind."

"What is your relationship with Ruby?" Putting Yang's mind at ease would likely dispel this whole fiasco. Obaz slapped a hand to his forehead.

"We are friends... Just friends. I was not even aware of that much until recently... that is all. Now _Good night_." He emphasized the bidding of his departure before turning to grasp the doorknob, but Blake ran an index finger very lightly all the way up his spine. The sensation was making him break out in goosebumps, and he jumped forward into the door with a thump to escape the experience. That had to be the most unpleasant thing that wasn't painful, and with a glance over his shoulder he caught Blake grinning coyly for the second time that day.

"It may not be much, but that's definitely something I have on you now... You can go ahead."

Obaz left the dorm just as Ruby went to enter, and they exchanged glances but he looked ready to murder someone so she let him go with a momentary greeting and parting. Upon asking Blake what Obaz was doing there, she snickered a bit.

"Ruby, have you ever thought Obaz may be ticklish?" That seemed unrelated to the question, but a certain glimmer caught her eye...


	6. Spar 2 (Ch, 17,5)

**Combat Class Sparring, Pt. 2**

Ms. Goodwitch called the class to attention. It was strange; she could swear she had seen Obaz enter the class, but he was gone by the looks of it. Considering what day it was, and the fact that Yang Xiao Long hadn't arrived to partake in the class today, piecing together where he had gone to wasn't so hard. Hopefully the two of them wouldn't cause each other any grief outside her supervision today… Turning back to the matter at hand, as usual she began picking students;

"Regis Agemont." He came jogging up from the back of the class, and considering the students had been hoping to see an impressive fight between members of RSOL and RWBY, chose to try for such a substitution. "… and Weiss Schnee."

Would that be good enough...? Maybe, but she could do better. "Blake Belladonna, come alongside Ms. Schnee. Cardin Winchester, partner with Regis." Chatter soon hit the small crowd. The two-on-two sounded interesting; Cardin and Regis were known to be friends, but how well did they fight together?

Cardin had his mace resting on his shoulder. Regis shifted from foot to foot, cracking his knuckles. "Like old times, isn't it?"

"Sure is. Should we scrap with 'em like that, or do this the Beacon way?" Regis asked. Cardin sneered.

"I say we crush them… Partner." Regis nodded affirmation. Weiss and Blake shared few words.

Regis' Sable Regalia wouldn't be turned on for sparring, as having saws dig into your peers in a friendly spar is not very friendly. This would allow Regis to make more accurate strikes, since his weapons wouldn't be jittering like usual.

"This match will be going by regional pairs-tournament rules; ring-outs result in that member and their teammate to lose, the aura of both members of a pair must be depleted to red standing to win. Begin."

Ms. Goodwitch motioned for the match to start, and the first thing Regis and Cardin did was get closer together as Blake and Weiss closed in. The two took on the girls back-to-back, Cardin taking a few shots through the gaps in his defense by the agile Weiss but Regis did well in dodging and deflecting the strikes of Blake's blade. When Blake shifted Gambol Shroud so she held the katana within as well as the sharp scabbard, Regis snagged both her wrists in his hands and quickly turned around with her like a tango dancer. He shouted something, and once he was facing Cardin the redhead had spun about himself, ignoring Weiss momentarily to swing his mace as hard as he could into Blake's back.

This also sent Regis rocketing along with Blake to the floor, but Regis had gotten ready as his own back met the ground to ram the bottom of his foot against Blake and throw her off of him, which on the angle they were would hurl her out of the arena. He succeeded in kicking thin air, as Blake disappeared from his grasp and returned at his side with a downward stab of her katana. Regis rolled away, but the edge grazed his arm.

Weiss had gotten a solid stab into Cardin's shoulder when he turned away to brutalize Blake, but his armor had made the attack suffer in strength and soon Cardin was clumsily fighting her back. She easily evaded the lumbering swings of his mace, but Regis came rolling across the ground away from Blake and brought himself into a sweeping motion, like he was running with his body parallel to the ground to try to trip her. Weiss jumped above this, but Cardin took her in the waist with a strong blow that knocked her a few feet from them.

Regis broke for Weiss being the faster of the two, and though Weiss froze him to the floor Cardin broke him free after seeing what became of his ally. Just as Regis intended to chase after Weiss again, his neck was encircled by the ribbon on Gambol Shroud and he was yanked from his feet, dragged toward the darker female. Cardin lost his chance to stop Weiss' glyph-propelled kick to his chest when he lingered on Regis being hauled away too long.

Blake reeled Regis in and held the scabbard ready to drop down on his torso when close enough, but Regis fought the urge to try and untangle the ribbon around his neck to get up on his hands and swing his legs at Blake, causing her to abandon her plan and block Sable Regalia. Once there was some slack in the ribbon, Regis got to his feet only to accept a nice slash to his abdomen. He brought a flurry of kicks to the table, and ended these with a trio of spinning kicks in midair aimed for her head but they were all dodged and blocked. For now, Regis had her on the defensive.

Cardin had withstood more attacks from the quick and crafty Weiss while this was happening, and though he was keeping up well enough to keep from outright losing he wasn't gaining any ground on her either. After a time, he took a frustrated and reckless charge through a stab of Myrtenaster's and got a kick to her stomach that sent her a ways away. Weiss got her bearings from there, and seeing Blake give her a nod, knew she had something planned; this led her to give Cardin a time-out by freezing his mace to the ground where he held it near; it was in thick, so it would take him a few moments to get it loose, and his hand holding it was also caught in the ice.

Regis had nearly knocked Blake's head off and her legs from under her a few times but that semblance of hers was keeping him from causing serious harm. When he finally tried a spinning heel-drop aimed at her shoulder, Blake stopped his leg and threw Gambol Shroud to her left; it stuck in the ground a fair distance from her, and with a well-aimed kick she slammed Regis in the stomach, throwing him into the length of ribbon between herself and the embedded blade of her weapon. Weiss saw exactly where she was going with this; using her motion glyphs, Weiss prepared Regis when he hit the ribbon like they had when they launched Ruby at the Nevermore during their initiation, and with a flick of her wrist the boy was sling-shot right out of the arena.

"Winners: Weiss Schnee and Blake Belladonna. That was splendid teamwork, all four of you." Cardin groused that Regis had caused his loss, and Regis light-heartedly accepted, saying things like 'better luck next time, I guess' though he had to peel himself off the far wall first. Despite appearances, Regis had shown he was capable, being the one that had really carried them as far as they went. Ruby excitedly told her teammates how proud she was, and even shared a high-five with them both as they returned. Glynda already started picking the next sparring partners.

"Pyrrha Nikos, and..." Mystral champion that she was, no one was looking forward to fighting against her, but the name Glynda uttered next was a surprise; "Steven Gemell. Yes –you, Steven."

The students looked between one another; Steven wasn't in this class today. In fact, none of them had seen Steven in the ring at all because there were very few times he had this class and none they knew of that Glynda had called him to the stand. Upon following Ms. Goodwitch's line of sight, Steven was standing near the doorway leading into the room; having been on his way past and fully geared he looked confused to hear his name. Glynda gestured for him to come forward, and he waded through the students to push himself up onto the arena floor. They exchanged a few words and he looked yet more confused.

Pyrrha turned to look at Jaune, recalling the trip they had taken to Vale. "That's your friend, isn't it Jaune?"

He nodded, and followed by saying simply; "... Be careful." She knew that Steven's team held Helena among its members, which meant Steven may be more knowledgeable than other students would be in fighting against her, but she hadn't expected Jaune to make that kind of observation.

She took her position opposite of Steven, and Glynda was allowing him to stretch and such not having been present beforehand. It was now, when Steven unfurled his giant sword, that Pyrrha saw why Jaune had warned her; he started by swinging it ten or so times in the style a kendo swordsman would swing a wooden training sword, but with the speed of one despite the size of the thing. After that, he whirled it from side to side, leaving thick gashes in the floor until finally he held it in both hands, standing sideways with the blade angled slightly upward and the grip held just next to his face. Maybe he was leader of team _Strength_ for basic reasons... She would later hear Jaune saying Steven was called 'the Executioner' by his teammates, and note that was for good reason.

Glynda signaled the start of the match. The usual easy-smiling, often-joking expression on Steven's face hardened into tight determination as the boy charged forward. Pyrrha met him with Akoúo̱ predominantly forward and Miló set to short sword form. Steven rammed the hilt of his weapon into her shield when they grew close; far from one of the great swings from earlier she was expecting. He continued to keep up these quick jabs, testing her reflexes by spreading out his targeted areas. It was also keeping him from leaving any openings in his own stance, as when Pyrrha would move to slash at him with Miló he was prepared to quickly re-position his blade so the flat was forward and the weapon itself stood straight up, with one hand bracing the flat on his own side. The position with the grip near his face made guiding himself into that kind of block easy, and if she took her attacks to his lower body his leg most forward had a shin-guard that he lifted to shield himself with whenever necessary, and wherever his weapon could not cover him without difficulty. The caution he was showing and careful deliberation of his defense were impressive; both of them were going to have to force a chance to deal good hits out of their opponent.

Pyrrha bashed the next hilt-jab away with Akoúo̱ and used the opportunity to bring a diagonally upward cut at Steven's midsection with Miló. Steven used the force of her throwing his weapon away to divert the blade; he switched his right hand to face his left on the grip, bringing the sword into a draw, back past his ribs rather than over the shoulder. He leaned his weight onto his backmost leg and ducked low, evading the diagonal slice just barely –Miló even cut a few of his rust-colored hairs on the way by. Pyrrha swiftly caught on to what he was planning; his furthest leg was coiled to spring, his new grip pent-up into what would make a most powerful upward slash. She leaped back, just fast enough to dodge this oncoming attack.

Or so it first appeared, but Steven flashed orange just once and shot off from his position, but kept the blade prepared underhand, dragging the weapon against the floor with his lunge for her. Pyrrha lifted her shield, and Steven unleashed the attack but just glanced the edge of Akoúo̱, leaving a five-foot rend in the floor from where he had been to her location. His swing had only nicked her shield, but the force had actually sent Pyrrha spinning until she caught herself with her feet and her sword hand against the ground; just one direct shot after one of those orange flashes of his could spell the end of this fight.

The attack had forced Steven to let the heavy blade go over him and come crashing down behind; he had let go with one hand knowing he couldn't stop it from completing the arc and this left him drastically exposed. Pyrrha darted for him with an overhead slash she jumped with in order to come down with her strength and a little boost from gravity. Lacking options, Steven propped himself up on one leg and did his best to put his shin guard up to stop the assault but was thrown back when she struck, hitting the floor and skidding a little ways. She hurled Akoúo̱ after him, which took him hard in the chest and set him sprawling further from her.

Steven made effort to catch himself in that of a sprinter's starting stance, which made his recovery from the projectile an extremely quick one as he homed in on her again. Pyrrha met his blade with her own and made it slide off course, digging into the floor at her side while catching Akuo in her free hand. She slammed the bottom edge of the shield into Steven's shoulder, then his back when this dipped him lower, and he brought his sword from the floor into a fast slapping motion with the flat that caught her in the elbow and most of her midsection, tossing her aside slightly. Her arm stung from the hit, and before she could try to recuperate Steven let go with his left hand and brought a haymaker into the crook of her neck and shoulder, slamming her into the ground.

Pyrrha rolled onto her back and held her shield up to defend against the blows that may rain down while she was laid out, but Steven had bigger plans; his weapon being the rectangular slab that it was, he stepped around her and scraped it under her back like a spatula, lifting her entire body off the floor and over his head to squash her back down on the opposite side of him. The devastating force of the flip shook the ring.

Pyrrha was dazed for a moment, pushing herself up off the floor and shaking her head clear. The dust began to settle, and looking up from where she was Steven had gotten his blade over his shoulder, legs wide apart, and his aura was swirling around him menacingly. He flashed once, and he may have already flashed once before when she was disoriented. She had to move.

Throwing herself away from Steven with the best push she could, his sword came down like a guillotine. Glynda had actually made a glyph form over where Pyrrha had just been to stop the motion; if she had still been beneath that glyph, Steven would have been named the winner as that blow would have caused severe injury or death. Because she escaped ground zero before the calamity came down, the glyph vanished and the match simply carried on. Even with the split-second interference from the glyph, once Steven's blade was free of it the weapon sank into the floor to a point where nearly half of the massive thing was underground. He wrenched it out in a rain of debris.

In cover of this veil of wreckage, Pyrrha burst into Steven's personal space and planted her shield squarely between his eyes. He took a slice to the bicep, and got a feeble cut into Pyrrha's leg as well. She rammed him with Akoúo̱ and he met this with the flat of his weapon braced against his shoulder, and when they parted from this Steven shot forward with a hilt-jab to her chest while she clobbered the side of his head with Miló's own.

A glyph appeared right between them now; that was twice Ms. Goodwitch cut in to their fight when in most circumstances she never did. She stepped forward and gestured for the two to be at ease; their auras were both indicated as red.

"Now here, students, we have a very rare example of a tie. In an actual tournament setting, the judges would select a winner based on overall performance throughout the battle. I my experience, this match would have taken some time to judge… it was quite close. We will be leaving the outcome of this spar as it is officially; tomorrow, I would like you all to hand these in to me telling me who you thought would have been chosen as the winner and why."

Glynda gave Weiss and Sophia stacks of handouts, and the class seemed relatively disparate to the idea of written work for a class such as this one; usually it was treated as an escape from such assignments. There was still a sense of awe amongst the class at the moment, as someone managed to draw with the famed Mistral champion herself, and the match had been an intense one. If this had not been an enclosed event on Beacon grounds, it would have been newsworthy.

Pyrrha and Steven used the same small flight of stairs to exit the stage, and Steven exchanged some kind of handshake with Jaune before removing himself from the class entirely. Pyrrha watched him go, still a bit unsettled from their bout.

"Sorry, I should have been less vague… I knew Steve was tough, but I could have said more. That Anvil Cleaver of his is nuts." Jaune seemed apologetic, possibly blaming himself for this dent in her Beacon sparring record as undefeated. She technically still was, but the tie would still sit there as a blemish. The name _Anvil Cleaver_ for his giant sword was quite fitting, she cited in the back of her mind. If he charged up three times, he could probably cut right through Akoúo̱ like butter. The thought gave her shivers.

"That concludes today's class. Remember that assignment, all of you." Glynda left the arena, hoping to get through some imposing amounts of her own paperwork. She wouldn't have the time once Yang arrived at her office later...


	7. Simple, but Complex (Ch, 18,5)

**Simple, but Complex (Ch. 18.5)**

Obaz was alone in the dorm for the time being. Regis had some kind of date to attend to, which he did not hesitate to brag about most of the day. Sophia had gone to visit her brother, who coincidentally lived near one of the shuttle stations catering to Beacon students. Laera was off on one of her colorful nighttime gallivants. At the moment, he was at his desk with several massive blue sheets that he was sketching diagrams onto in white. Most of the time these caught the interest of his teammates as they weren't your usual white stationery used for school work, so in the event of having privacy these were given some attention.

There was a trio of knocks at the door. Obaz got up to answer it, and once opening the door found Weiss standing in the hallway... this was unorthodox. She must have had some underlying reason to be here, and he likely had nothing to do with it.

"Is Laera here at the moment?" That certainly supported the theory.

"No, regrettably. May I ask why?"

He had expected her to claim it wasn't his business, which it really wasn't, and make to leave or ask where Laera had gone since she was absent. "We were partnered together for a project in Grimm studies. Will she be back anytime soon?"

"I could not say for certain. Her trips away from the Academy vary in length by quite a bit." He hoped she wouldn't press much on the subject of Laera's disappearances. "You may leave a message here with me if you like."

Weiss' eyes wandered for a moment in thought, but soon she shook her head slightly. "That won't be necessary. Can I come in?"

This was a little more unorthodox. Was something on her mind? Either she figured she could wait in hopes of Laera's return being sooner rather than later or she had something to discuss with Obaz on the side. Regardless, he turned and gestured for her to enter if only to be polite.

"You may take the chair from my desk in the corner here if you wish to have a seat. I have no right of way over the beds, belonging to my teammates." He paused, and then moved toward the kitchenette. "I will be making either coffee or tea. Which would you prefer?"

Weiss watched him shut the door behind her, draw the chair he mentioned in case she wanted to sit, and go to make her something to drink. She had expected good manners, but his posture, way of speaking and thoughtless gestures reminded her of her servants. "Coffee has grown tiresome with Ruby's homework nights. Tea would be nice, thank you."

After setting some water to boil in a kettle on the stove, Obaz took actual tea leaves and spices, grinding them up and putting the result into small bell-like containers. Weiss couldn't remember the last time she had real tea rather than store bought stuff in filter pouches. During a moment of preparing some mugs and teaspoons, Obaz began to speak over his shoulder. "I assume you would like to have a word with me? Or do you simply intend to await Laera's return?" He paused, and then looked at her. "Do you take sugar? Milk?"

"Yes, I did wish to speak with you... And that would be two cubes of sugar, and just a bit of milk." Weiss had difficulty fighting back a small smile. She was having the type of formal, polite conversation that Ruby and Yang simply could not manage. Blake might have been able to, but she wasn't talkative in the first place, so Obaz' courtesy and proper demeanor was the kind she was most used to, and craved from time to time, much like Ruby's mechanic speak.

Obaz took a bag out from the cupboards; upon taking something out of it, she noticed it was one of those wafer cookies with chocolate sandwiched between the crisp layers. The word 'wafer' brought bad memories filed under 'Khiver', allowing her to maintain a slightly sour expression were Obaz to look her way, which he did. "Would you like any of these?"

"No, thank you. Now... Is there absolutely no way I can convince you to stop using that siphon work?" Obaz' mouth pressed thin. Though he sounded agitated, he gave her a compliment, so she wasn't sure how to take it;

"You are more caring than first impressions may suggest." She showed no intent to respond to that, so he continued on. "How long do you think it would have taken me to prepare this tea, and take that bag from the cupboards with just one hand, rather than two?"

Weiss tilted her head; immediately she noticed that yes, these simple things he had just done would have taken at least twice the time he had just now if he were missing his limb. Possible, yes, but that was not what he had asked. "That isn't my point, Obaz –"

"There are many things we take for granted. Do you think I could attend an academy, Beacon or not, with any ease? Say I dropped out of schooling. Would the working world treat me any better? Could I be a dishwasher, a photographer, a cashier of ability that an employer would want over anyone else? Disability funds only take you so far. Vytal's disability program is filled with loopholes that they take advantage of in a rather ugly, cutthroat fashion." Obaz stopped for a moment. "I apologize... I have had a lot of time for this subject. You were saying something?"

Weiss was putting her argument back together, though what he just said put no dent in it; she was just surprised to see him visibly gaining a hateful poison in his voice as he went on until the pause, when normally he was very mild-mannered and single-toned. "Obaz, the bottom line is that this arm is dangerous to your life, and making such a thing a consistency only multiplies that risk. I at the very least want to make sure your idea of improvement for the Marreon leans toward a better fuel source, and not more complex siphon power. You _did _say you were advancing the design."

Obaz began pouring the hot water into the cups, letting the heated beverages steep for a while. "Yes, I have thought about your offer two days ago. I do hope that at one point I can make the Marreon less of a hazard, but I regret to say that dust fuelling is not just something I see no future for in this regard, but is not something I will even consider."

Weiss glared at him with contempt. "Why would you not even consider it? Surely you realize how much safer an alternative it would be."

"Have you ever had to worry about starving, Weiss?" The question almost physically slapped her.

"What does that have to do with this?"

Obaz stirred his own drink, not having added anything to it other than the tea itself. "I have been homeless. There were several years in my life where every day was a struggle to survive. I have stolen, though I am not proud of the fact, and some nights I was nearly beaten to death for that... found myself hurt, cold and hungry. Do you think I would have made it through that time in my life with one arm?"

Weiss blinked a few times. "... probably not. But still –"

Obaz cut her off, and at once she understood; "Given that hypothetical scenario, say I came upon the Marreon. I had a limb that would replace my missing one, and let me live... but this machine ran using Dust. Do you think I could afford Dust? If I could, would I not spend that money on food first? Shelter? Not once during those years had I even seen a crystal, a hint of powder, because I had more important things to worry about. Giving someone the gift of a new limb that had to run using Dust would feel backhanded, in my opinion, as Dust is meant to be a luxury. Though the equipment would come with a base price, making it a financial black hole on top of basic finances... insulting. I may not be able to avoid such a fate for my invention if it gets that far, but implementation of a commodity such as Dust only guarantees it."

"I see... That's a rather compelling way to put it." Weiss accepted the small saucer with her teacup on top from Obaz, blowing slightly on the surface and taking a test sip. "... this is lovely."

"I try. My boss at Petto Automotive was fond of tea." Obaz finished off his wafer cookie, and taking his tea walked past Weiss to sit cross-legged atop his desk. She thought it strange, but tried to ignore it as he spoke again;

"Making the Marreon a siphon work does allow it to function for any given person without having to pour Lien into a finite fuel source, but I am aware that this does not make it morally right. Until I invent a way to make it self-sustaining without being a siphon work, I will only use it to that very end... Although there are other snags to smooth over before I even consider patenting."

She could live with that. As much as it bothered her to do so, Obaz had a right to his own ideology regarding his invention, and normal prosthetics would be there until he succeeded. Whether he risked his life until making that discovery was his decision... For now, she urged him on with what he tagged on the end of his comment; "Snags, such as?"

Obaz gestured to her hand not holding her tea. "Let's have an example; hold up your arm for me, please."

Weiss raised her arm to level height with her shoulder, palm down. "Like this?"

"That is fine. How hard was that to do?"

"Not very." Weiss responded truthfully.

Obaz nodded. "How would you describe what you just did?"

She wasn't quite sure of where he was going with this. "You just told me to raise my arm. That's all I did, right?"

Obaz smirked; it seemed that was the answer he had expected. He copied the movement her arm made; back and forth from the way she had it idle near her tea in her lap and the outstretched position. "What you did was lift your bicep up, move your forearm down, relax your wrist, uncurl each finger and thumb from being slightly clenched and ensure your arm would remain in that final position by resisting gravitational forces... and that is summarizing. I could include specific muscle movements, but for now let us continue."

He showed her this exactly, step-by-step. "Lastly, you thoughtlessly chose to start and finish each movement within a close time frame, not necessarily simultaneously, to perform the given task as quickly as possible." Obaz now showed her, slowly, the difference between the two.

"This is the difference between fractional and fluid motion. You could say all living things have a talent to manipulate their own bodies most efficiently... Aura, on the other hand, is a force we only grasp vaguely. It helps us to heal, project a defensive layer over ourselves, sense danger –quite different from electrical and chemical impulses. The only real commonality between the two is that we use our aura thoughtlessly as well, unless we have control over our individual semblance, and that is only one instance where control is so stringent." Weiss nodded. Obaz was a fairly good teacher, come to think of it; she even figured Ruby might doodle a slanderous picture of him were she here to half-listen.

"Most siphon works were made intentionally simple, as one's aura was only meant to be a power source; the user would channel their aura into where it needed to go, and the machine did the rest. The Marreon is similar, but on a much more complex scale."

"Simple, but complex? Explain." He was keeping her involved with such statements. Obaz went on;

"Aura is channeled through the Marreon via pathways leading through and/or ending with valves. These valves activate specific functions; valve 48 does this." Obaz' left index finger twitched at the end of it.

"Valves 46, 47 and 48 simultaneously." His whole index finger instantly curled.

"Valves 46, 47 and 48 in order, forward and back." Obaz' finger slowly curled and uncurled, almost like it was beckoning her. She kept her focus.

"If I want to move my fingers, but not my hand or my arm, the aura flows through bypass routes to the desired valves; you could say that the Marreon is made up of hundreds of tiny siphon works. Sounds simple... however, as aura is an indefinitely acting force under most circumstances, and my semblance is hindered by the Marreon, how am I so precisely controlling this colony of individual destinations for my aura?" Obaz paused, wondering if she may actually have a guess.

She thought on it for a while, but was stumped, as he was probably making sure of considering the way he had explained until now. "How am I supposed to know? You just gave me every reason why it should be impossible."

Obaz had his right hand up to his chin, nodding. "You are correct, I did indeed... Let us explore this from the base of the concept. How does one usually activate, respond to, and maintain use of aura? Is it something one wills with their mind?"

Weiss shook her head. "No, not really. It's sort of primal most of the time... like feeling. You _sense_ ill intent through aura. In times of crisis, you _feel _the blow you took become softened by your aura."

"Right; aura is most acutely related to emotions rather than thought. The two can be entangled, but for the most part aura is purely triggered by emotions... and through use of _nostalgia_ as an emotion, I control the flow of aura in the Marreon."

Weiss looked confused. Obaz reiterated; "You know the feeling you get when you look back on better times in your life, like an anniversary? I work the Marreon through use of this feeling as a catalyst, and control the flow of aura through memory of how my flesh and blood arm originally felt when I used it. The valves and paths are as close as I could get to the circulatory systems of a realistic arm... think of it like a conversion of the electrical impulses I mentioned to emotional ones, however these impulses must be triggered by memory; and to remember requires a train of thought dedicated to it. Now consider such a process applied to the mazelike construction of a circulatory system, and factor in the necessity of fluid motion as opposed to fractional."

Weiss had gotten halfway through her tea. She couldn't even fathom how difficult it was; remembering information was one thing, but to recall how it _felt_ to move an arm that was no longer there and apply that to a metallic fraud of one... he did all of this at all times, and given he frequently needed to react to something or deal with the unexpected, it sounded inhuman. She couldn't even remember such an insignificant, indescribable feeling herself –and she was feeling it now as she set her cup back down. It was also very sad; like watching someone tell you that a ghost of their former ligament still worked quite close to the real thing.

"In this way, use of the Marreon requires one to uphold two parallel thought processes; one of reverie and memoriam of signals your body once sent, and one to actively pursue whatever you are doing or thinking in the first place. This in itself is more difficult than it sounds, as splitting one's conscious thoughts and having both carry forward is more advanced than multitasking... Such mental extremes and vivid memory are prerequisites that only I, among perhaps a handful of others, could meet; which is an important hurdle to clear before considering the creation and distribution of more. Having such a thing run on Dust for fuel would require more Dust or some other substance to act as the circulation; this being the more tangible reasoning for use of Dust in the Marreon to be futile."

Weiss could understand that. Some things guzzled Dust power so hard there was hardly a reason to own it; the Marreon would join those ranks if it ever were made capable of Dust compatibility, and no amount of furthering in the design would be able to decrease that enough. There was a noteworthy silence where the two of them simply pondered what had been said.

Eventually, Obaz changed the subject. He said something she had heard many times before; "Actually, might I ask a favor?"

"I'm not giving you money." Her good mood vanished. His story was a sad one, but he was fine now, surely.

"No, nothing of that sort. I would like you to stop Schnee Dust Co. trying to buy Petto Automotive. The attempts at negotiation have become bothersome, and soon I may have to take legal action, as their visits have begun to border harassment."

Weiss nearly dropped her tea when he got through the second sentence. "H-harassment?! You're sure?"

"Yes, I have been there for the exchange twice now. Your employees are quite pushy, and quick to temper when they are refused continually." Obaz paused, and the tiniest of smirks formed. "I hope that you may resolve the issue nicely. If I met your lawyers in court, they would undoubtedly lose."

She was tempted to believe that just from the confidence he showed. "I knew Schnee Dust was interested in Petto Automotive, but going so far..."

Obaz drank some of his tea. "You need not be upset. All major companies have the Achilles' heel of widely-spaced employment networking. The chain of command is simply too long and quality of work is left unsupervised... And there are much worse things than harassment. Embezzlement, forgery, blackmail..."

He trailed off. They sat in silence for a while, and Obaz offered to take her cup when she was finished with it. "Blake is still astray?"

"Yes. We can't hope to really find her after dark, so we stopped for today, but I don't mind joining the search anymore –I think I know how to face her now. What you said to me by the fountain... helped. Thank you." It looked almost painful for her to say it.

"I am glad to have been of assistance." Obaz said, putting away the minor dishes. He turned back to look at her. "Laera is unlikely to return by a time where you would get anything done for your project together. I will make sure she cancels any plans she may have tomorrow night in your favor, but for now I would like to attend my own business."

Weiss got up from his seat, pushing it back toward his desk where he retrieved it thoughtfully. "Of course. Thank you for your time, and the tea."

Obaz opened the door for Weiss once again, and she passed him into the hallway with the first smile he thought he had ever seen on her. She seemed quickly irritated to cover it, possibly even because he had seen the smile to begin with. If memory served, which for Obaz it unwaveringly did, he had likely just made another friend.


End file.
